


i'll be there when your reality drowns

by Camellia Cook (thekurosakiconundrum)



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Community: Kylux Cantina, Eroticized Weapons of Mass Destruction, Hux is Not Nice, M/M, Oral Sex, Scheming, Tumblr ficlet, violent imagery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-11
Updated: 2018-09-11
Packaged: 2019-07-11 03:38:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15963902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thekurosakiconundrum/pseuds/Camellia%20Cook
Summary: It has always amazed Hux that other men so consistently think that being on your knees with a cock in your mouth is a position of weakness.





	i'll be there when your reality drowns

**Author's Note:**

> For the Kylux Cantina prompt "Power Hungry."
> 
> Title from the Kailee Morgue song "Siren."

The problem with Ren—one of them, anyway—is that he has no subtlety. For a man with supposed mystical insight into the inner working of the universe, he has a disturbing, if useful, habit of taking things at face value.

Hux looks up at him; takes in the delicate lacework of shadows across his cheekbones, cast by his long lashes and the hall’s needlessly dramatic lighting, and the way his scar pulls at his skin where his dark brows lift in pleasure, twisting their shape just slightly. Ren’s lips are parted as he breathes through his open mouth, every inhale almost a gasp, every exhale the softest of sighs. 

Everything about him is open, like this—his pleasure unconcealed, his legs spread wide, his complacency on display as he sprawls there on his throne, convinced he’s won because he has Hux on his knees, convinced that he makes the very picture of power, where Hux’s bent neck means only submission.

Hux fingers the catch that would, were he to exert the slightest of pressure upon it, release his hidden blade from his sleeve. He could kill Ren right now, drive his knife deep into the quivering inside of Ren’s thigh, severing the femoral artery he’d left so carelessly unguarded. Hux pictures himself rising, straight-backed, wiping his mouth before plucking Ren’s crown from his head and placing it on his own.

He could do that, but he won’t. He doesn’t need to. Instead, he slides a hand up Ren’s taut belly where he has his tunic rucked up out of the way, tracing the contours of his abs with the tips of his fingers. (Let it never be said that Hux doesn’t enjoy his work.) With his other hand, he cups Ren’s balls, rolling them gently on his palm, thrilling at the knowledge of how much he could make Ren hurt just by closing his fist. 

He makes Ren gasp—a soft, honest, needful sound—as he runs his tongue along the vein on the underside of his cock. Hux shudders, arousal pooling hotly in his belly, hot like the blood running under Ren’s skin, separated from Hux’s teeth by only a delicate, easily-rent layer of flesh.

He palms himself, letting Ren think his quiet groan is because Hux likes this so much. He supposes that’s true, but not for the reasons Ren thinks—Hux recalls the documents Ren had just signed, scrawling his mark carelessly across the datapad, pressing his thumbprint to the scanner while his eyes lingered over Hux’s mouth, impatient for what he knew always came at the end of their morning meetings.

Ren is close, now, making those little noises he always makes, soft whimpers that Hux will find embarrassing and contemptible even as he thinks of them later, back in his quarters, lying in his bed and tugging at his cock. He will think, then, also—just as he thinks now—of the new flagship Ren has commissioned at Hux’s behest. It will be one of the most expensive pieces of machinery the First Order has ever produced, second only to Starkiller Base. It will be swift and massive and deadly, its hyperdrives and weapons powered by a captive singularity. The sucking darkness of a black hole, tamed by the power of First Order engineering.

Hux will move through the universe with the a power that can tear even light apart beneath his feet, bringing death and peace in equal measure, turning chaos into something shining and clean and new. He designed the ship’s main weapon himself, a thing long theorized but only now becoming a reality, powered by the same gravity wave harvesters that contain the ship’s core. They will take that energy, the force that holds all things together, and focus it in on itself, again and again and again before releasing it, loosing it like a hound, if a hound could make worlds implode.

Ren comes with a quiet grunt, and Hux swallows his spend down dutifully, not letting even a drop spill, just the way Ren likes. It’s hot and bitter, viscous on his tongue, but he doesn’t mind the taste. He likes it, even—it’s always good when Ren pushes him away then leans down to kiss him, his lips so soft and lax as he licks his way messily into Hux’s mouth, tasting himself. He’s so honest like this, pleased and grateful in the wake of his orgasm. The kiss is slick and bitter with the last traces of it, and Ren’s breath is warm against his lips as he pulls away, smirking in satisfaction.

Hux rises, straight-backed, and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. He thinks he will call his new ship the _Siren._

**Author's Note:**

> [camellia-cook.tumblr.com](https://camellia-cook.tumblr.com)


End file.
